Odd Seasons Poem by Unic Cjonr
Odd Seasons
Blood beyond this room -
Flows to scream -
Where i wake -
Breaks a river to tear into a stream -
Wrists, bound to the blade -
I am veined to the twist -
Wild by nature -
Matured to be unknown - Sentenced by the present -
To live -
I have to die -
Just to feel alive -
Death has my back, free to the knife -
Blunt is the meaning -
Why why has no reason -
Even in 200 odd seasons
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 11:22:17 AM # 1.0.0.1119
